Post by Jamie Ryan McKinnley on Apr 7, 2013 10:17:12 GMT -5
JAMIE MCKINNLEY
WEREWOLF - SEAN FARIS - MOUNTAIN - MIZ
the basics.
get to know me a little
NICKNAMES
Jamie, Hey you, scarboy (the last two may getcha' pummeled!)
AGE
21
BIRTHDATE
October 28th
SPECIES
Werewolf -- he just doesn't know it yet
POWERS AND ABILITIES
heightened speed and senses, supernatural healing abilities, grows claws and sharp canines when 'agitated though at this point he doesn't realize this...
CHARACTER TYPE
original
LIKES
Fighting
Dark Beer
Jazz Music
Socks just out of the dryer
Smoke (legal and illegal)
Quiet
His iPod
Cooking-- and he's ace at it too!
UFC
Eatting-- he's always got something in his mouth!
DISLIKES
Cats-- he's quite allergic
No Smoking Signs
Dancing
The Law
Waking up in a ditch, covered in blood and not remembering what happened.
The smell of burned food.
Waking up early.
WEAKNESSES
The blackouts leave him disoriented, sick, and obviously missing hours and sometimes days at a time.
A bottle of whiskey and some jazz music never fails to bring out his pain or anger
Food
The dancers at the club where he works. They are misunderstood and mistreated, and he can't abide by that.
His temper when he's set off.
STRENGTHS
Jamie is real good with his hands; aka...he can kick your ass so hard you'll taste his size 11 1/2's
He can cook like nobody's business
He is methodical (almost to the point of ADD)
Physically he is a brick house
He is no one and can fade a place like he was never there.
FEARS
getting thrown in jail or a loony bin
people touching him
people getting to close to him-- realizing he's not just 'different' physically
what he might have done while blacked out
children terrify him
SECRETS
Jamie blacks out and looses hours, if not days
he may have harmed, if not killed others while blacked out
he is addicted to drugs and alcohol
he can cook!
Jamie can't dance to save his life
personality.
all about me
Jamie is scarred physically (though the disfigurement is much worse in his mind than it truly is) and mentally; the result of a childhood of abuse and neglect.
The bodily and emotional mistreatment as a youngster caused the boy to withdraw into himself and from that place he has never really returned. Quiet and guarded, Jamie keeps his mouth closed and his head down unless he feels there is a reason to speak up; usually when it comes to the exploitation of others.
You might find that he comes across as cynical or snarky; but that is mostly just a defense mechanism he uses when he doesn’t know -how- to interact with an individual.
Under the physical power and the calm demeanor you will find a lost soul. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him and can’t fathom why he deserves whatever it is. He thinks god has forsaken him; thinks the world has forsaken him, and has no real place in the world.
history.
this is the story of my life
If given the option now; Jamie would probably tell you he’d choose not to be born.
It was unfortunate that 20 years ago when given the same choice, a young hooker named Sandra turned around and walked out of the abortion clinic. What a damn, damn shame.
So his story begins twenty years before; a crack baby born in a roach motel to a mother that went back to the streets not three days later. And this narrative doesn’t get any better. His father was the pimp that provided his mother drugs, beat her when she didn’t bring home enough money from the johns and raped her whenever he wanted.
Great life for a kid…NOT!
Jamie doesn’t remember much about being a baby, but who does? The memories he does have probably start around 4 or 5 years old. He remembers being hungry. Watching his mama cry or just sit there while he cried. He remembers being afraid to turn off the light because he could hear the scurrying sound of roaches on the walls and could feel the bolder ones climbing all over him while he tried to sleep.
The hotels were always in different places (this pimp was an entrepreneur and had hoes all over the place-- he dragged Sandra and the kid with him when he went on business trips, yo!) but always the same; dirty, loud; an above ground crypt for the sinful and the dying.
Jamie didn’t go to school or anything; mostly he watched cartoons while his mother slept off her hangover-slash-over dose.
At least during the day he didn’t have to worry about the roaches, and mostly the men didn’t come until after dark but sometimes the pimp would come over and usually that meant his mother getting hurt or if she was too out-of-it him getting beat up real good.
He was hurt real bad one of those times…nearly lost and eye to the jagged edge of a broken beer bottle. It left a nasty scar and some damage to the retina. It was badly damaged; discolored, though after a time he did regain partial sight in it.
He was probably six or seven when that pimp did his mother in for the last time. Jamie watched it happen, tried to help, and woke up a day later when the hotel manger was pounding on the door wanting rent. The pimp had killed his mom and fled; Jamie was taken into state custody which is where he stayed until he finally ran away. (Later)
At first Jamie was extremely traumatized. It was difficult to keep him with a foster family because he wouldn’t talk; wouldn’t eat or sleep.
After the shock and fear subsided it was sadness…and people couldn’t handle a kid that was crying all the time. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway?
The kids at the home picked on him and it was the pimp all over again. Mental abuse, physical torture…he really deserved it…did you see that motherfuckers face?!
Finally the sadness turned into anger, and Jamie was a ticking time bomb always ready to explode. Anything and everything lit the fuse, and the outbursts usually ended in violence or destruction.
The state figured they couldn’t place him with a regular family until he was ‘treated’ and stuck him in with the crazies for a few years. Oh yeah…that REALLY helped.
When he was sixteen and released from the mental ward in order to be placed in foster care (again) he took the opportunity to get the fuck out of there and ran…ran until his feet were blistered and his skin sagging from a body deteriorating from hunger. But at least he was free…
Yeah right. For a street kid it was either live or die…and Jamie didn’t really care to do either one. So he survived.
He ate trash, slept under newspaper and got a fix anywhere he could find it. (It helped to numb…everything)
A kid that lives on the streets also has to learn how to take care of himself, so Jamie started fighting. Even got himself a reputation for being pretty damn good!
He wasn’t ever really interested in girls, (they usually found him hideous and who could blame them with beastly face) but he did meet this one that chick that was squatting in the same abandoned warehouse as he was and she didn’t think his scar was all that off-putting. She wasn’t pretty or anything, but they decided it would be better if they stuck together (he couldn’t really say no-- she was pretty sick from the drugs and he felt this unfamiliar need to protect her).
I guess after a while you could even say they were friends. They looked out for one another; got high together, and sometimes even got physical.
She was freaky sometimes…and liked to do it outside with the grass under her ass. What the fuck did Jamie care if he was getting off?
They had this one place out in the woods that was really secluded, and it had a nice view to this lake…
-- This would be a blackout--
The werewolf was upon them before they heard the crunch of twig under his foot.
She screamed. He couldn’t move at first. Were those eyes glowing?
The female was the easiest target, so the werewolf instinctually took Jamie out of commission, casting him aside with one powerful blow to the head. The girl was the meal, and the monster devoured her like Sunday dinner. By the time he got to Jamie unconscious he tasted the kid, but found him utterly unappealing. Besides he was full..
-- --
He woke up a few days later on the bank of that lake, and the decapitated corpse, well…bits and pieces of -his girl- all over the place.
What could he do but get the hell out of there? No cop was gonna’ believe he didn’t have anything to do with it. Not with all the drugs he had in his system…not with his ‘stuff’ all over her.
And so he ran again...got out of the freaking state of Mississippi and ended somewhere in Cali; which was actually an excellent place to hide. Too bad he couldn’t hide from himself. Blackouts started haunting him like ghosts from the past. He started waking up in strange places with wounds on his body or covered in dirt or blood with no idea how he got there and no memory of what happened.
He had this weird pain in his belly right around the full moon (of course he hasn’t recognized that’s when it happens) and an intense hunger for like…meat? Something…he doesn’t really know.
Jamie’s gotten older and the blackouts haven’t ceased, though he has learned to deal with them a little better. (Not really, but what the fuck is he supposed to do…turn himself in? Check him self into a mental ward? No, thanks.)
He still thinks of himself as this horrible monster though he has mostly grown into the facial scar.
He works in a place that’s easy and off the radar, and he doesn’t try to pretend anyone there is his friend. He does what he enjoys there and blends in for the most part…but damn if he could figure out what that fucking taste in his mouth is…blood?
